Mothers Sell Your Daughters
by BrokenRosePetals
Summary: He was a rich lonesome doctor with two young children. She was a runaway prostitute with nothing and no one but herself. In a chance meeting they may have a chance with each other to right their wrongs in life.
1. Prolouge

Mothers Sell Your Daughters

..

.was...........in.........life.

..

started.1.8.10.

finished.1.8.10

note: PLEASE READ: this is just the prolouge, so it IS short. i apologize, but i felt it ended where it should have. this takes place in england, but i apologize if i'm inaccurate about some things. i am american, and have never been to england, so i'll have to look up a hell of a lot of stuff. though, if you are british and wouldn't mind lending me a hand, i'd be happy to have you aboard. and, oh yes. would anyone like to be my beta? you would get much credit, i assure. p.s. the chapters will end up longer. promise.

--

"Bella! Bella dammit, get back here!" Her mother had shouted, but she didn't listen. Tears ran down her sallow cheeks, and she tripped over her hands and feet as she ran down the cracked sidewalk. She kept running, didn't stop. She heard pounding feet behind her and knew she had been followed.

Gulping down a large breath of air, Bella picked up her speed. She was determined to get away- nothing could stop her. She'd made it this far, the footsteps sounded fainter now, but she didn't trust herself to stop. She kept on, blood running down her legs from the numerous times she had fallen running and scraped her delicate skin.

She could barely breath, her lungs felt void and empty. Her head was light and she could pass out any minute- how long had she ran without stopping? Didn't matter. All that mattered to her were the footsteps, fading a little at a time, until they weren't even there at all. She didn't even stop then, though, and ran for a good fifteen more minutes. Only then did she lean against an apartment building, panting heavily as she slid down onto her bum.

The young woman took a few moments to collect herself before looking up. She was in a dirty alleyway. It rank of trash and beer and desolation. It made chills run down her back but that wasn't new to her. Anywhere she had ever been made chills run down her back and the hairs on her neck stand up. If anything, it taught a person to be aware. At all times. She hadn't quite mastered that art yet, though.

She eyed the sky warily. It was a cloudy night, and chilly, too. Not many stars shone and the ones that did were dim and forgettable. The city streetlights flickered, a translucent sheen to them. They led the way for her. As the North Star was to the three Wise Men, the ironwrought, worn down streetlights were to her.

A rat scuttled behind the dumpster near her and she started, breaking out of her reverie. Her nose wrinkled and she brought her legs up to her chest, enclosing her arms around her knees tightly. She had never been found of rodents and even though she hadn't lived in the most sanitary of places, or a sanitary place at all, she had always somehow been able to steer clear of the beady eyed things. Not here, though, where the homeless lived and the drug lords made their deals.

She toyed with her thin fingers, letting out a breath she didn't know she had held captive. The looming building in the middle of the only place she had ever known struck three A.M. and she knew it was signalling that she best get a move on. They may have stopped searching for her at the moment, but as soon as daylight broke, they would again be conspicuously roaming the city streets.

It wasn't safe anymore. But really, when had it been to begin with?

With renewed, shaky determination, she hoisted herself off the ground and back onto her bare feet. She had fifteen pounds (that she had stolen last minute) and a cigarette lighter to her name, but she figured everyone had to start somewhere. Or, in her case, start over somewhere. But all she was thinking at that moment was she had enough money for a cheap ticket to London and a new life, if she was lucky and no one caught her.

She'd had pretty rubbish luck in her life, but who knows, she wondered, looking around to see if a bus stop was anywhere around her, a person's luck could change. Besides, she had nothing to lose.

As long as her past didn't catch up with her.

--


	2. I

**..daughters.**

**author(ess)..petals.**

**.**

**disclaimer..nothing.**

**notes. thank you for all that have reviewed! it means a lot, as little or as long as the reviews may be. seriously, it makes me happy to know at least ONE person is reading this things. :D Love you all! Also- NEXT CHAPTER WE INTRODUCE CARLISLE. **

**um, yeah. i thought that sentence in particular deserved to be in big letters. didn't you? no? okay. **

_**Thanks To:**_

_**r0xi!**_

_**Everyone who favourited/alerted this story!**_

_**Anyone who took the time to even skim over this thing! **_

**r&r my lovelies, because i appreciated each and every one.**

* * *

**'**_All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.'- Henry Ellis_

* * *

"Ungh... " A small whimper passed her lips as she raised her head off of the cold glass window. Buildings flashed by and people were small specks in the distance. The city bus was chilly and she silently wished that she atleast had a jacket, but what good would just _wishing_ do? Not much. Bella had picked a seat in the far back of the car, but not many were riding the bus, anyway.

A man in a business suit was reading the paper, his eyes flickering across the printed block words speedily, almost as if he didn't allow himself to process one thing before starting on the next. Sitting a few seats down from him was a world weary looking woman with a sorrowful toddler strapped to her hip. They both looked worse for wear and, even though Bella wasn't in a very good situation herself, she couldn't help but feel sorry for the two and wished she could do something to help them.

Other than the balding bus driver, no one else occupied the dirty seats. It was eerily silent except for the small whine here and there from the little toddler, and the tuts of disapproval from its mother. Bella almost wished someone would speak, for it would take her mind off of the situation at hand- and she desperately needed that. Her mother used to tell her, when she was still in a right state of mind, that busy hands and mouths equalled a busy mind. Right now she needed a busy mind, but she knew she would not be getting it there.

"My last stop is Hackney," The bus driver informed his silent passengers as the old bus creaked to a stop, "We're at the heart of London now. Get off here or Hackney. Can't stay on any longer than that." Bella hesitated. She wasn't sure if it would be smarter to stay on for Hackney, but it wasn't exactly a place where anonymousity was, and that was something she needed dearly. Biting her lower lip, her bare feet tentatively touched the litter strewn isle of the red decker. She did not look back as she disembarked, though she did feel a sort of flutter of uncertainty in her heart. Didn't matter, though- she had made her decision, and she was going to live with it.

The second the soles of her feet touched the London sidewalk, the doors slammed shut and the bus sputtered away without waiting to see if she had gotten off fine or not, but even if the bus driver had waited, he wouldn't have been able to have saw his homeless looking passenger, for she was soon swallowed up into the sea of people travelling the streets. It may have been early- around five or six A.M.- but Londoners were notorious for their 'early bird gets the worm' motto, not to mention the fact it was Monday, possibly the busiest day of the week.

'_I picked a lovely day to decide to run,_' Bella thought grimly, wincing as a very robust middle-aged woman elbowed her in the torso without even apologizing. Lovely indeed. She felt as if she could faint on the stop, and not a person would stop to see if she was alright. That was life, though, she mused, darting into the nearest shop possible to avoid the human traffic, it went by fast and so did its people.

The doorbell jingled merrily and Bella flushed in embarrassment at the small amount of patrons who raised the eyes above the coffee cups and shot her disinterested stares before ignoring her completely. It seemed she had stumbled into a coffee shop, and not a very lively one, at that. There were a few businessmen dotted here and there, chatting idly or sipping their black coffee, and a college student or two gripping their cappucinos and cramming one last bit of studying in. The girl who worked the coffee machine seemed bored with life in general, and her eyes held a certain distaste when they landed on Bella.

Biting her lower lip, she shot an apologetic look to the girl, though she hadn't an idea what she had done to ignite anger in her, no matter how mellow it was. Bella swallowed a knot in her through when the coffee girl just rolled her eyes and looked away, before heading to the restroom, her eyes downcast.

Bella let out a sigh of relief as the door shut softly behind her, and, after making sure she heard the lock 'click!' slid down onto the cool lime green floortiles, her back propped up against the door. Her mind was in a whirlwind and she had no idea what to do or what to think. She was in a London coffee shop with no money, no name, barely a high school education, and no family. Where was she supposed to go from _there_?

'_You were supposed to live out your dream,_' Bella bit out sarcastically to herself, digging her stubby fingernails into the palms of her hands, '_You were supposed to find a job, an apartment at a ridiculously low price, you were supposed to work your way through college, you were supposed to find a man who'd love you no matter what, you were supposed to- _'

She let out a choked sob, hugging herself tightly. She was supposed to do a _lot_ of things. She had promised herself. But what had she known? Not much. She had just been a tainted teenaged girl who dreamt of a dream life outside of her dirty flat. Nothing ever ended or, for that matter, started the way it was _supposed_ to, though, did it? She shook her head sadly, her long, mahogany hair brushing against her trembling shoulders. No, it didn't.

Then she had a startling, mindblowing, absolutely _fanatical_ thought. What if... she _did_ live out her dream? A little at a time? Maybe she wasn't prime material, but _somebody_ would be desperate enough to hire her, no matter how ragged she seemed. And sure, she may have to live on park benches for a month or two, but she could save up enough money for a crummy flat. Maybe... maybe everything would turn out okay.

But then again, there were alot of maybes stacked up against her. She didn't let herself dwell on those, though. She was a woman on a mission, albeit a dirty woman in need of a bath, some food, and a friend or two. And a woman on a mission is a very dangerous woman indeed to mess with.

Grabbing the edge of the sink, Bella pulled herself up and let out a deep breath, steadying herself. Once she had done so, she tentatively turned towards the blurred mirror above the golden faucet. What she saw in her reflection was enough to make most girls cry. Her skin was filthy. Dried dirt stained her cheeks and her thin lips were chapped and bleeding slightly. A small bruise adorned her neck and her eyes were puffy and red from crying. The hair that hung from her head was knotted and greasy, a stark contrast to what it would be with a little cleaning up. All in all, she fit the physical description perfectly of the little match girl.

Bella was not deterred, however. With newfound determination she turned the water on and squirted some foamy handsoap on a wet brown papertowel. She made sure it was rubbed in good before scrubbing her face thoroughly. Specks of dirt clogged the already slightly filthy drain, a sign of angst to most, but not to her. It signalled the shedding of her old skin, the loss of her old life.

Several papertowels later Bella let her eyes wander to the mirror once more. Her face lit up at the freshly cleaned skin she saw. The cheeks were still sallow, the eyes still had bags, the lips were still chapped, but it was a vast improvement to what she had previously looked like. This though, no matter how small it would be to other people, was enough to make her day even if everything else went as wrong as it could.

Next, she attempted to finger out the tangles and knots in her hair. Keyword being: attempted. Bella felt as if she were getting _nowhere_, as if her hair simply did not want to be tangle free. It didn't want to cooperate- but that should've been obvious. Getting knots out of your hair was a brush's job, not your fingers. Bella herself learned this simple rule through trial and error.

Finally, Bella gave up on her hair. She would just have to be satisfied with what she _had_ done, not what she _couldn't_ do. This was a very valuable lesson learned, and with one last glance into the bathroom mirror, Bella left the public restroom with renewed vigor, and a bounce in her step. She was happy enough that she was able to ignor the curious (and in some cases, wary) stares the coffee drinkers shot towards her.

First order of business: Get a job. Easy peasy, right?

It soon panned out, um, _no_.

* * *

_**review responses:**_

_**r0xi: your wish is my command, and here is your chapter. ;P Also, thank you for the sweet compliment!**_


	3. II

**author's note: oh, i won't give up, inevercutmyself..HAHAwhatajoke (woah, what a name, haha). i've just been busy and admittedly a lazy bitch. BUT I SHALL PERSERVERE. :) and thank you, everyone else who reviewed!**

**disclaimer: i own nothing.**

* * *

_'Many of the great achievements of the world were accomplished by tired and discouraged men who kept on working.' - Anonymous_

* * *

"Daddy, are we gonna visit Mummy today?" Why was it, that every time those words left his small daughter's mouth, he wanted to crawl up into a fetal position and cry? His wife had been dead for four years, yet the tears still bubbled under the surface and threatened to erupt with the barest about of pressure?

"No, sweetheart." Carlisle swallowed in a feeble attempt to get his bearings, "Mummy can't be visited today. A nice man is cleaning up her... her home." Her home? A lovely choice of words for a graveyard, he thought to himself. Then again, it was the home for the dead. Still, those words seemed to macabre for his calm and doting, sweet Esme. She deserved something better... she deserved to live.

"Oh." His youngest twiddled her thumbs. "I just wanted ta show her the card I made for her. We made cards for Mummy's Day, Daddy. Everybody was showing their Mummy's theirs and I wanted to give Mummy hers." '_Oh God_,' Carlisle thought desperately, tightening his grib on his coffee cup. In his zombie like state, he had forgotten about Mother's Day, and could see the poorly disguised tears welling up in his daughter's eyes. Biting his lip, he did something he knew he'd regret.

"Well, Alice," He didn't look at his daughter as he talked, but into the brown liquid in his cup. It was getting cold, "Today I could let you skip school to come with me to Mummy's... Mummy's home." The brightening of Alice's face was almost worth the pain he felt at that moment, almost. Not fully.

"Really?" Alice asked eagerly, bouncing up on her heels, "But what about Emmett, Daddy? He mighta wanted to go to Mummy too, but he already left for school! An' what about the hospital Daddy! They need you! Oh, what do we do?" Alice bit her thumb in consternation and a small smile overtook Carlisle's thinned lips. She appeared so worried finally he had to stop her.

"Emmett can come this evening, Alice. He goes to the big kid school so it would hurt his grades if he didn't go more than yours. And I can just take the day off, sweetie. Now go get your coat on and we'll walk there." Alice shot off like a rocket and Carlisle stood up after a few minutes, thankful she was gone. He loved his daughter more than anything in the world, but those big green eyes were her mother's, and that heart shaped face... if it weren't for her black hair Alice could pose as a Mini Esme. Every time Carlisle looked into her innocent face he saw Esme's eyes as they closed one last time after handing tiny Alice to him.

Carlisle shook his head tiredly and slipped on a coat himself. He didn't know what he was going to do about the graveyard mower, other than simply ask him to leave and come back the next day. He didn't want to have an audience while stupidly standing in front of his wife's tombstone.

"I'm ready to go, Daddy!" Alice chirped, breaking Carlisle out of his reverie. He shot a smile towards his daughter and hoisted her up on his shoulders. She started to complain ("I can walk, Daddy! I have legs, see?"), but he shushed her with a promise of stopping for cocoa after their trek to the graveyard.

It was just half past eight and seeing as how the roads were clogged up and not looking like it was changing anytime soon, Carlisle was glad he chose to walk, although he normally didn't because as calm as he seemed, he was often paranoid of losing Alice in the crowd. She was a tiny and pretty little girl, perfect prey for some dirty old man and Carlisle swore to himself he would never let that happen.

Alice chattered the whole way to the cemetary, talking about this and that and Daddy did you know Susie held hands with Archie at recess? Ew! The second they hit the cemetary gates, though, she demanded to be put down. Carlisle smiled and saluted, telling her her wish was his command, then ordered her to stay at her mother's tombstone only, and wait for him, seeing as they had been there enough times for her to know which it was.

"Sir?" Carlisle called, seeing a man with a pushmower, "Could you maybe come back tomorrow? My little girl wants to see her mother, and I assume she doesn't want an audience.... " The man's eyes twinkled. Carlisle knew Alice wouldn't mind an audience at all, in fact, she enjoyed telling anyone who listened of her 'Pretty Mummy in Daddy's picture books.'

"Of course." He replied, his voice formal. He left as asked, but still, Carlisle had an uneasy feeling about him and hurried back to Alice. She was currently chattering to a cold, teardrop headstone and pointing out the little hearts on her card.

"... and Jasper let me borrow his pink to color your hearts, Mummy, " She was saying excitedly, "He's really nice and says he's from a place called Tex.... Texas. People make fun of how he talks and stuff, but don't tell nobody Mummy, I think he talks really cute." Carlisle smiled and leaned against an old oak. He could spend the day watching his daughter and then just leave, but he knew he wouldn't feel right unless he had his turn, too.

"Okay Daddy!" Alice said, maybe ten minutes later (because Carlisle knew she could talk the hind legs off of a horse), "It's your turn. I love you Mummy! Daddy wants to talk to you. Happy Mummy's Day! Remember to not let nobody take your card, 'cuz I made it 'specially for you." She skipped away to do what, Carlisle didn't know. He faintly saw her toying with the oak tree's bark that he had leaned on.

"Esme?" Carlisle started softly, making sure Alice couldn't hear, "I miss you, sweetheart. Alice and Emmett do, too. They need their Mummy. I can't be both, honey, I just... " He squeezed his eyes shut, but still a few tears slipped out. He kneeled there for he had no idea how long, and then he felt small arms wrap around his leg.

"Don't be sad, Daddy." Alice whispered, "Me and Emmett loves you lots. I bet Mummy did, too." Carlisle bit his cheek and gathered Alice in his arms.

"She did." He managed to choke out, "and she loved you too, sweetheart. Now, what about that cocoa?" He stood up, Alice in his arms. Carlisle walked away, but turned and took once last look at Esme's headstone, the messy Mother's Day card held down from the wind by an angel. Softly, he mouthed, 'I love you', and walked away.

--

"One medium and one small, sir?" The barista asked politely, eyeing him over. Carlisle squeezed his nostrils tightly, still not completely composed from the graveyard episode.

"Please." Carlisle replied tiredly. Alice started to chatter again beside him- they were in a booth- and he half heartedly listened, though he was really not into it. He was simply emotionall drained and all he needed was a good glass of Brandy, not cocoa, but he couldn't drink in front of his daughter.

"Daddy! Daddy! Did you see that woman walk in?" Alice suddenly said, shaking Carlisle's arm. He shook his head rapidly and followed Alice's pointing finger, so caught up in himself he forgot to scold her for being rude.

"She's pretty Daddy but she don't look too good!" Alice commented, her voice low. Apparently she, even for a four year old, had enough sense not to talk too loudly.

Carlisle realized his daughter was right. And the woman... she could be no more than seventeen or eighteen. She appeared to be wearing a ragged pair of jeans and a loose top. Her hair was knotted and looked as if it hadn't been washed in days. She belonged anywhere but where she was at the moment, in the highend district of London, but there was just something about her. Was it her step? She walked so hopefully, and her eyes were beautiful, oh God, those eyes. Carlisle could see, even far away, that they were brown, wide and doe like, absolutely stunning... yet she seemed like she was losing hope. For what?

"Excuse me," Carlisle asked his waitress after she gave them their drinks, "But who is that woman?" The waitress's eyes flared slightly and a pout appeared on her lips.

"She's just some homeless off of the streets, probably." The waitress, Tanya, sniffed, "Came in here asking for a job. A job! Where does she think she is? She must have run out of luck or something because she's sure not getting any bloody job at a high end place like this, that's the truth." Carlisle's eyes narrowed. Did this girl have no compassion?

"Alice, stay here," He ordered sharply, not exactly sure what he was doing. He walked up to the counter, where the homeless girl had a despondent look on her face and was prepared to leave. He took pity on her and her gentle looking eyes.

"Excuse me, ma'am? Are you looking for a job?" Carlisle asked politely. "If you are, I've been needing someone to watch my daughter after preschool, because I'm often home late from work. If you're interested, call this number." He quickly jotted it down with a pencil in his pocket and a napkin. "Even so, here's a few pounds for advancement of your first paycheck." As he handed the girl the money, he tried to ignore the shock and warmth he felt when he touched her. Quickly, he grabbed Alice and left the coffee shop. Carlisle didn't notice the homeless girl's eyes followed him the whole time in such gratitude it would warm even the coldest of souls.

--

**Guess who the homeless girl is? :D**


End file.
